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Oer 29 1898 



The Bashful 
Earthquake 



^ Other FABLES 
and VERSES by 

OLIVER HERFORD 

with many pictures 

by the Author 




New York: Published by 
Charles Scribner's Sons in 
the Autumn of mdcccxcviii 









Copyright^ i8g8y 
By Oliver Herford. 



^\ 



V '^r r( 



OCT 2 9 1898 

" ■ 0/ 



''?^ CO PIES RECEIVED* 



2nd COPY, 



SSntiJcrsitg ^vcss: 



^AOA John Wilson and Son, Cambridge, U.S.A. 



V- (ji- riof- Of i v\\- *'.v \ 

6322S0CI28I898 



TO THE ILLUSTRATOR 

IN GRATEFUL ACKNOWLEDGMENT OF HIS AMIABLE 
CONDESCENSION IN LENDING HIS EXQUISITELY 
DELICATE ART TO THE EMBELLISHMENT OF THESE 
POOR VERSES FROM HIS SINCEREST ADMIRER 

THE AUTHOR 






• - ■ • 



CONTENTS. 

Page 

The Bashful Earthquake 1 

The Lovesick Scarecrow 7 

The Music of the Future 9 

Song 11 

The Doorless AVolf 12 

The Bold Bad Butterfly 15 

Crumbs 20 

Japanesque 21 

The Difference 22 

Why ye Blossome Cometh before ye Leafe 23 

The First First of April 24 

The Epigrammatist 26 

The Silver Lining 28 

The Boastful Butterfly 31 

The Three Wishes 35 

Truth 37 

The Tragic Mice 38 

Absence of Mind 40 

The Graduate 41 

The Poet's Proposal 44 

A Thre'E-sided Question 45 

The Snail's Dream 51 

vii 



Page 

A Christmas Legend 62 

PIyde and Seeke 54 

In the Caf]^ 55 

The Legend of the Lily 58 

The Untutored Giraffe 60 

The Enchanted Wood 64 

A Bunny Komance 68 

The Flower Circus 72 

The Fatuous Flower 77 

A Love Story 80 

Ye Knyghte-Mare 83 

Metaphysics 84 

The Princess that w^as n't 86 

The Lion's Tour 89 

The Fugitive Thought 93 

The Cussed Damozel 97 

A Gas-log Reverie 101 

Cupid's Fault 103 

All Aboard 104 

Killing Time 105 

The Mermaid Club 107 

A Song 109 

Angel's Toys 110 

The Reformed Tigress 112 

Two Ladies 115 

To the Wolf at the Door 119 

The Fall of J. W. Beane 121 



Vlll 



THE BASHFUL EARTHQUAKE 



^RIME, Wickedness, Villany, Vice, 

And Sin only misery bring ; 
If you want to he Happy and Nice, 
Be good and all that sort of thing. 



< 



r„>-n^^^- 




The Earthquake rumbled 

And mumbled 

And grumbled; 

And then he bumped, 
And everything tumbled — 
Bumpyty-thump ! 
Thumpyty-bump ! — 
Houses and palaces all in a lump ! 
1 1 




^' Oh, what a crash ! 
Oh, what a smash ! 
How could I ever be so rash? " 
The Earthquake cried. 

*^What under the sun 
Have I gone and done ? 
I never before was so mortified ! '' 
Then away he fled, 
And groaned as he sped: 
^'This comes of not looking before I tread." 

2 



Out of the city along the road 

He staggered, as under a heavy load, 

Growing more weary with every league, 

Till almost ready to faint with fatigue. 

He came at last to a country lane 

Bordering upon a field of grain; 

And just at the spot where he paused to rest, 

In a clump of wheat, hung a Dormouse nest. 







The sun in the west was sinking red, 
And the Dormouse had just turned into bed, 

3 



Dreaming as only a Dormouse can, 
When all of a sudden his nest began 
To quiver and shiver and tremble and shake. 
Something was wrong, and no mistake ! 

In a minute the Dormouse was wide awake, 

And, putting his head outside his nest, 

Cried : ^^ Who is it dares disturb my rest ?" 

His voice with rage was a husky squeak. 
The Earthquake by now had become so weak 
He 'd scarcely strength enough to speak. 

He even forgot 
the rules of 

grammar; 
All he could 
— ^ do was to 

feebly stammer: 




" I 'm sorry, but I 'm afraid it 's me. 
Please don't be angry. I '11 try to be — '' 

No one will know what he meant to say, 
For all at once he melted away. 



The Dormouse, grumbling, went back to bed, 
" Oh, bother the Bats! " was all he said. 








A SCARECROW in a field of corn, 
A thing of tatters all forlorn, 
Once felt the influence of Spring 
And fell in love — a foolish thing, 
And most particularly so 
In his case — for lie loved a crow ! 

^^ Alack-a-day ! it's wrong, I know, 

It 's wrong for me to love a crow ; 

An all-wise man created me 

To scare the crows away," cried he ; 

" And though the music of her ' Caw ' 

Thrills through and through this heart of straw, 

*^My passion I must put away 
And do my duty, come what may ! 
Yet oh, the cruelty of fate ! 
I fear she doth reciprocate 
My love, for oft at dusk I hear 
Her in my cornfield hovering near. 

7 



" And once I dreamt — oh, vision blest ! 

That she alighted on my breast. 

'T is very, very hard, I know, 

But all-wise man decreed it so." 

He cried and flung his arm in air, 

The very picture of despair. 

• ••••• 

Poor Scarecrow, if he could but know ! 
Even now his lady-love, the Crow, 
Sits in a branch, just out of sight, 
With her good husband, waiting night, 
To pluck from out his sleeping breast 
His heart of straw to line her nest. 




8 




The politest musician that ever was seen 
Was Montague Meyerbeer Mendelssohn Green. 
So extremely polite he would take off his hat 
Whenever he happened to meet with a cat. 

<at 's not that I 'm partial to cats," he 'd explain ; 
''Their music to me is unspeakable pain. 
There 's nothing that causes my flesh so to crawl 
As when they perform a G-flat caterwaul. 

Yet I cannot help feeling — in spite of their din — 
When I hear at a concert the first violin 
Interpret some exquisite thing of my own, 
If it were not for cat gut I 'd never be known. 






And so, when I bow as you see to a cat, 
It is n't to her that I take off my hat ; 
But to fugues and sonatas that possibly hide 
Uncomposed in her — well — in her tuneful 
inside ! " 




10 



SONG. 

Gather Kittens ichile you may, 
Time brings only Sorrow ; 

And the Kittens of To-day 
Will he Ohl Cats To-moi^oiv. 



11 



0^] V 




THE DOORLESS WOLF. 



I SAW, one day, when times were very good, 

A newly rich man walking in a wood. 

Who chanced to meet, all hungry, lean, and sore. 

The wolf that used to sit outside his door. 

Forlorn he was, and piteous his plaint. 

''Help me!" he howled. ''With hunger I am 

faint. 
It is so long since I have seen a door — 
And you are rich, and you have many score. 
When you 'd but one, I sat hy it all day ; 
"Now you have many, I am turned away. 
Help me, good sir, once more to find a place. 
Prosperity now stares me in the face.'' 

12 



The newly rich man, jingling all the while 

The silver in his pocket, smiled a smile : 

He saw a way the wolf could be of use. 

''Good wolf," said he, ''you 're going to the 

deuce, — 
The dogs, I mean, — and that will never do; 
I think I 've found a way to see you through. 
I too have worries. Ever since I met 
Prosperity I have been sore beset 




By begging letters, charities, and cranks, 
All very short in gold and long in thanks. 
Now, if you '11 come and sit by my front door 
From eight o'clock each morning, say, till four, 

13 



Then every one will think that I am poor, 

And from their pesterings I '11 be secure. 

Do you accept ? " The wolf exclaimed, '' I do ! " 

The rich man smiled ; the wolf smiled ; /smiled, 

too. 
And in my little book made haste to scrawl: 
*^Thus affluence makes niggards of us all ! '^ 




14 





NE day a Poppy, just in play, 
Said to a butterfly, '' Go 'way, 
Go 'way, you naughty thing ! Oh, 

my! 
But you 're a bold bad butterfly ! " 

Of course 't was only said in fun, 
He was a perfect paragon — 
In every way a spotless thing 
(Save for two spots upon his wing). 



But tho' his morals were the best, 
He could not understand a jest ; 
And somehow what the Poppy said 
Put ideas in his little head, 
And soon he really came to wish 
He were the least bit *^ devilish.'^ 
15 



«_, 1 




then affected manners rough 
And strained his voice to make it gruff, 
And scowled as who should say '^ Beware, 
I am a dangerous character. 
You 'd best not fool with me, for I — 
I am a bold, bad butter%." 

He hung around the wildest flowers, 
And kept the most unseemly hours, 
With dragonflies and drunken bees, 
And learned to say '• ^ By Jove ! " with ease. 
Until his pious friends, aghast, 
Exclaimed, ''He 's getting awf 'lly fast ! '' 




16 



I 




He shunned the nicer flowers, and threw 
Out hints of shady things he knew 
About the laurels, and one day 
He even went so far to say 
Something about the lilies sweet 
I could not possibly repeat ! 

At length, it seems, from being told 
How bad he was, he grew so bold, 
This most obnoxious butterfly. 
That one day, swaggering 'round the sky, 
He swaggered in the net of Mist- 
er Jones, the entomologist. 




'^It seems a sin,'^ said Mr. J., 
^'This harmless little thing to slay," 
As, taking it from out his net. 
He pinned it to a board, and set 
Upon a card below the same. 
In letters large, its Latin name, 
Which is — 



but I omit it, lest 
Its family might be distressed, 
And stop the little sum per year 
They pay me not to print it hei^e. 




18 



I 





19 




CRUMBS. 

P to my frozen window-shelf 

Each day a begging birdie comes, 
And when I have a crust myself 
The birdie always gets the crumbs. 



They say who on the water throws 
His bread, will get it back again ; 

If that is true, perhaps — who knows? — 
I have not cast my crumbs in vain. 

Indeed, I know it is not quite 

The thing to boast of one's good deed; 

To what the left hand does, the right, 
I am aware, should pay no heed. 

Yet if in modest verse I tell 

My tale, some editor, maj^be. 
May like it very much, and — well. 

My bread will then return to me. 



20 










ap3L% 









3h, where the white quince blossom swings 

I love to take my Japan ease ! 
[ love the maid Anise who clings 

So lightly on my Japan knees ; 
" love the little song she sings, 

The little love-song Japanese. 
. almost love the lute's tink tunJcle 

Played by that charming Jap 
Anise — 
For am I not her old Jap uncle ? 

And is she not my Japan 
niece ? 










;--§^W^'' " 'j^.:^ 











THE DIFFERENCE. 




.fjJ^'p>-- 



N the spring the Leaves come out 
And the little Poetlets sprout j 
Everywhere they may be seen, 
Each as Fresh as each is Green. 
Each hangs on through scorch and 

scoff 
Till the fall, when both '' come off/' 
With this difference, be it said. 
That the leaves at least are Red. 




22 



WHY YE BLOSSOME COMETH BEFORE 
YE LEAFE. 

Once hoary Winter chanced — alas ! 

Alas! hys waye mistaking, 

A leafless apple tree to pass 

Where Spring lay dreaming. ^'Fie ye lass! 

Ye lass had best be waking," 

Quoth he, and shook hys robe, and lo ! 

Lo ! forth didde flye a cloud of snowe. 

Now in ye bough an elfe there dwelte, 

An elfe of wondrous powere, 

That when ye chillye snowe didde pelte, 

With magic charm each flake didde melte, 

Didde melte into a flowere ; 

And Spring didde wake and marvelle how, 

How blossomed so ye leafless bough. 



23 





The Infant Earth one April day 
(The first of April — so they say), 
When toddling on her usual round, 

Spied in her path upon the ground 

A dainty little garland ring 

Of violets — and that was Spring. 

She caught the pretty wreath of Spring 

And all the birds began to sing, 

But when she thought to hold it tight 

'T was rudely jerked from out her sight ; 

And while she looked for it in vain 

The birds all flew away again. 



Alas ! The flowering wreath of Spring 
Was fastened to a silken string, 
And Time, the urchin, laughed for glee 
(He held the other end you see). 
24 



And that was long ago, they say, 

V/hen Time was young and Earth was gay. 

Now Earth is old and Time is lame, 

Yet still they play the same old game : 

Old Earth still reaches out for Spring, 

And Time — well — Time still holds the strino- 



25 




THE EPIGEAMMATIST. 

I KNOW an entomologist 

Who thinks it not a sin 
To catch a harmless butterfly, 

And stick it, with a pin, 
Upon a piece of paper white, 

And underneath the same, 
In letters large and plain, to write 

The creature's Latin name. 



I know another little man 

Who catches, now and then, 
A microscopic little thought 

And goads it, with a pen. 
To rhyme, until we wonder quite 

How it can keep so tame. 
And why he never fails to write 

Beneath (in fall) his name. 
26 



If you should ask me to decide 

The which of them I 'd rate 
The greater torment of the two 

I should not hesitate. 
It 's wicked with a j^in to bore 

A butterfly — but then, 
I loathe the other fellow more, 

Who bores me with his pen. 




27 




THE SILVER LINING. 




HEN poets sing of lovers' woes, 

And blighted lives and throbs and throes 
And yearnings — goodness only knows 

It 's all a pose. 

I am a poet too, you know, 

I too was young once long ago. 

And wrote such stuff myself, and so 
I ought to know. 
28 



I too found refuge from Despair 
In sonnets to Amanda's fair 

White brow or Nell's complexion rare 
Or Titian hair — 



' Wi^W"^" 




Which, when she scorned, did I resign 
To flames, and go into decline ? 

:Not much ! When sonnets fetched per line 
Enough to dine. 

So, reader, when you read in print 
A poet's woe — beware and stint 

Your tears — and take this gentle hint 
It is his mint. 

29 



When Julia's ''fair as flowery mead^^^ 

Or when she ''makes his heaj't-strings bleed,^^ 

Know then she 's furnishing his feed 
Or fragrant weed — 

And even as you read — who knows ? 

Like cannibal that eats his foes, 
He dines off Julia's " heart that froze,^^ 

Or '^ cheek of Rose.'''' 



30 




THE BOASTFUL BUTTEEFLY. 



(from the oriental.) 

Upon the temple dome 

Of Solomon the wise 
There paused, returning home, 

A pair of butterflies. 

He did the quite blase 
(Did it rather badly), 

Wherefore — need I say ? — 
She adored him madly. 
31 



Enthusiasm she ■ 

Did not attempt to curb : " 

'^Goodness gracious me! 
Is n't this superb ! '' 

He vouchsafed a smile 

To indulge her whimsy, 
Surveyed the lofty pile, 

And drawled, ^* Not bad — but flimsy ! 

^'Appearances, though fine, 

Lead to false deduction; 
This temple, I opine. 

Is shaky in construction. 

*' Think of it, my dear. 

All this glittering show 
Would crumble — disappear — 

Should I but stamp my toe ! 

'' If I should stamp — like this — " 
His wife cried, ' ' Heavens ! dori't ! ^' 

He answered, with a kiss, 
''Very well; I won't.'' 




32 



Now, every blessed word 
Said by these butterflies, 

It chanced, was overheard 
By Solomon the wise. 

He called in angry tone, 
And bade a Djinn to hie 

And summon to his throne 
That boastful butterfly. 

The butterfly flew down 
Upon reluctant wing. 

Cried Solomon, with a frown, 
*^How dared you 
say this thing ? 



*^How dared you, 
fly, invent 

Such blasphemy 
as this is ?'' 




C^^^i^^ 



33 



''Oh, king, I only meant 
To terrify the missis." 

The insect was so scared 

The king could scarce restrain 

A smile. ''Begone ! you 're spared; 
But donH do it again ! '^ 

So spake King Solomon. 

The hutterfieiv away. 
His wife to meet him ran : 

" Oh, dear, what did he say? '' 

The butterfly had here 

A chance to shine, and knew it. 
Said he: " The king, my dear, 

Implored me not to do it ! " 



34 





NCE to a man a goblin came 

And said to him, '^ If you will name 
Three wishes, whatsoe'er they be, 
They shall be granted instantly. 
Think of three things you deem the best. 
Express your wish — 'we do the rest.^ '^ 
" Goblin ! " cried the man, " indeed 
You 're just the kind of a friend I need. 
Hunger and Want I Ve known thus far, 
I fain would learn what E-iches are." 
'^Then," cried the Goblin, ^^ learn it well, 
niches are title deeds to Hell I 
Now wish again.'' 

35 




Alackaday ! " 
Exclaimed the man. "I 've thrown away, 
And all for naught, a chance immense ; 
I only wish I had some sense ! " 
The Goblin waved his hand — the Dunce 
To his surprise was wise for once. 
And being wise, he laughed, and said: 
*' I am a fool — would I were dead ! ^' 



^' Granted ! " the Goblin yell'd " it 's plain 
You '11 never be so wise again.'' 




TKUTH. 

Permit me, madame, to declare 
That I never will compare 
Eyes of yours to Starlight cold, 
Or your locks to Sunlight's gold. 
Or your lips, I 'd have you know, 
To the crimson Jacqueminot. 

Stuff like that 's all very fine 
When you get so much a line; 
Since I don't, I scorn to tell 
Flattering lies. I like too well 
Sun and Stars and Jacqueminot 
To flatter them, I 'd have you know. 



37 




THE TRAGIC MICE. 

It was a tragic little, mouse 

All bent on suicide 
Because another little mouse 

Refused to be liis bride. 

" Alas ! " he squeaked, " I shall not wed ! 
My heart and paw she spurns; 
I '11 hie me to the cat instead, 

From whence no mouse returns ! " 

The playful cat met him half way, 

Said she, '' I feel for you. 
You 're dying for a mouse, you say, 

I 'm dying for one, too ! " 

Now when Miss Mouse beheld his doom, 
Struck with remorse, she cried, 
" In death we '11 meet ! — O cat ! make room 
For one more mouse inside." 
38 



The playful cat was charmed; said she, 
*' I shall be, in a sense, 
Your pussy catafalque ! " Ah me ! 
It was her last offence ! 



Keader, take warning from this tale, 
And shun the punster's trick : 

Those mice ^ for fear lest cats might fail ^ 
Had eaten arsenic ! 




39 



ABSENCE OF MIND. 

They paused just at the crossing's brink. 
Said she, ^' We must turn back, I think." 
She eyes the mud. He sees her shrink, 

Yet does not falter, 
But recollects with fatal tact 
That cloak upon his arm — in fact, 
Resolves to do the courtly act 
Of good Sir Walter. 

Why is it that she makes no sound, 

Staring aghast as on the ground 

He lays the cloak with bow profound ? 

Her utterance chokes her. 
She stands as petrified, until, 
Her voice regained, in accents chill 
She gasps, " IHl thank you ^f you will 

Fick up 7)iy cloaks sir / ^' 
40 




OU are old," ^Father World/ cried 

the Graduate, 
'' But for oue of your age and size, 
I feel it is only my duty to state 
You are not uncommonly wise." 

I am aged,'^ replied Father World, ^' it is true. 

And not very wise I agree. 
Do you think tho' it 's fair for a scholar like you 

To ahuse an old fossil like me ? " 




Said the youth, ^' I refer not to college degrees, 
Nor dates that one crams in his skull, 

I complain not because you are lacking in these, 
But because you 're so awfully dull ! 

41 




^'I have studied you now I should think more or 
less 
For twenty-one years, and I know 
You right through and through, and I can but 
confess 
You are really confoundedly slow.'' 



Said the world, "My dear sir, you are right, there 's 
no crime 
Like dulness — henceforth I will try 
To be clever — forgive me ! I 'm taking your time, 
Perhaps we '11 meet later ! Good-bye ! " 

42 



LATER. 



"You are cold, Father World, and harden'd for- 
sooth, " 

Cried the man, ^' and exceeding wise, 
And for any offensive remarks of my youth 

I heg to apologize." 




^:7i^:(^ 



43 



THE POET'S PEOPOSAL. 

*^ Phyllis, if I could I M paint you 
As I see you sitting there, 

You distracting little saint, you, 
With your aureole of hair. 

If I only wei'e an artist, 
And such glances could be caught. 

You should have the very smartest 
Picture frame that can be bought ! 

'^ Phyllis, since I can't depict your 
Charms, or give you aught but fame, 

Will you be yourself the picture ? 
Will you let me be the frame ? 

Whose protecting clasp may bind you 
Always — '' 

" Nay," cried Phyllis ; '^hold. 
Or you '11 force me to remind you 

Paintings must be framed with gold! " 



44 




.Aree -Sided Uues1ior\ 






(9-f4^A 



Scene. A hollow tree in the woods. 
, Time. December evening. 

Mr. Owl. 
Mk. Sparrow. 
Mr. Bear. 




Mr. Owl (stretching 

his wings) : 



EIGHO! It's dark! 



/ How fast the daylight 
goes ! 
W^'^^T^^ff^ I must have over- 
slept. It 's time 
I rose 

And went about my breakfast to prepare. 
I should keep better hours ; I declare, 
45 



Before I got to bed 't was broad daylight ! 
That must be why I'm getting up to-night 
With such a sleepy feeling in my head. 
Heigho ! Heigho ! (Yawns.) 




Enter Mr. Spakrow. 

Mr. Sparrow : Why don't you go to bed, 
If you 're so very sleepy? — it 's high time ! 
The sun has set an hour ago, and I 'm 
Going home myself as fast as I can trot. 
Night is the time for sleep. 

Mr. Owl : The time for what ? 

The time for sleepy you say ? 

Mr. Sparrow : That 's what I said. 

Mr. Owl : 
Well, my dear bird, your reason must have fled ! 

46 



Mr. Sparrow (icily) : 
I do not catch your meaning quite, I fear. 

Mr. Owl : 
I mean you 're talking nonsense. Is that clear? 

Mr. Sparrow {angrily) : 
Say that again — again, sir, if 3'ou dare ! 
Say it again ! 

Mr. Owl : As often as you care. 
You 're talking nonsense — stuff and nonsense — 
there ! 

Mr. Sparrow {hopping one twig higher tipi) : 
You are a coward, sir, and impolite ! 

(Hopping on a still higher twig) 
And if you were n't beneath me I would fight. 

Mr. Owl: 
I am beneath you, true enough, my friend, 
By just two branches. Will you not descend? 
Or shall I^ 

Mr. Sparrow (hastily) : 

No, don't rise. Tell me instead 
What was the nonsense that you thought I said. 

Mr. Owl : 
It may be wrong, but if I heard aright, 
You said the proper time for sleep was night. 

Mr. Sparrow : 
That 's what I said, and I repeat it too ! 

47 




-^ 



Mr. Owl : 
Then you repeat a thing that is not true. 
Da7j is the time for sleep, not night, 

Mr. Sparrow : Absurd ! 

Who 's talking nonsense now ? 

Mr. Owl : Impudent bird ! 

How dare you answer back, you upstart fowl ! 
Mr. Sparrow : How dare you call me upstart — 

you — you — Owl ! 
Mr. Owl : This is too much ! I '11 stand no 
more, I vow ! 
Defend yourself ! 

48 



Mr. Bear {looking out of hollow tree) : 
Come, neighbors, stop that row ! 
What you 're about I 'm sure I cannot think. 
I only know I have n't had one wink 
Of sleep. Indeed, I 've borne it long enough. 
'T would put the mildest temper in a huff j 




And I am but a bear. Why don't you go 
To bed like other folks, I 'd like to know ? 
4 49 



Summer is long enough to keep awake — 
Winter 's the time when honest people take 
Their three months' sleep. 

Mr. Sparrow : That settles me ! I fly ! 
Dear Mr. Owl and Mr. Bear, good-by ! lUxit. 

Mr. Owl : 
I must go too, to find another wood. 
Every one 's mad in this queer neighborhood ! 
It is not safe such company to keep. 
Good evening, Mr. Bear. J[Exit. 

Mr. Bear : I^ow I shall sleep. 

CURTAIN. 




50 




THE SNAIL'S DREAM. 



A SNAIL, who had a way, it seems, 

Of dreaming very curious dreams. 

Once dreamed he was — 3'-ou'n never guess ! 

The Lightning Limited Express ! 




51 



A CHRISTMAS LEGEND. 

Beneathe an ancient oake one daye 

A holye friar kneeled to praye ; 

Scarce hadde he mumbled Aves three, 

When lo ! a voice within the tree ! 

Straighte to the friar's hearte it wente, 

A voice as of some spirit pente 

Within the hollow of the tree, 

That cried, '^ Good father, sette me free ! '' 

Quoth he, "This hath an evil sounde.'^ 
Ande bente him lower to the grounde. 
But ever tho' he prayed, the more 
The voice hys pytie didde implore, 
Untyl he raised hys eyes ande there 
Behelde a mayden ghostlie faire. 
TIius to the holy manne she spoke : 

" Within the holloiv of this oaky 
Enchanted for a hundred yeares, 
Have I been hounde — yet vain my teares / 
Notte anything can hreake the hanne 
Till I he kiss'd by holye manne.' ' 

52 



<' Woe 's me! " thenne sayd the friar ; ^' if thou 
Be sente to tempt me breake my vowe ; 
Butte whether mayde or fiende thou be, 
I'll stake my soul to sette thee free." 
The holye manne then crossed hym thrice, 
And kissed the mayde — when in a trice 
She vanished — 

^' Heaven forgive me now! " 
Exclaimed the friar — ''my broken vowe. 

" If I have sinned — I sinned to save 
Another fromme a living grave." 
Thenne downe upon the earth he felle, 
And prayed some sign that he might telle 
If he were doomed for-evermore ; 
When lo ! the oake, alle bare before, 
Put forth a branch of palest greene, 
And fruited everywhere betweene 
With waxen berries, pearlie white, 
A miracle before hys sight. 

The holye friar wente hys waye 
And told hys tale — 

And from thatte daye 
It hath been writ that anye manne 
May blamelesse kiss what mayde he canne 
Nor any one shall say hym ''no ''. 
Beneath the holye mistletoe. 

53 



HYDE AND SEEKE. 

One day beneathe a willowe tree, 

Love met a mayde moste faire to see; 
^' Come play at hyde and seeke/^ cried he. 
''With alle my hearte ! " — quoth she. 

' ' I 'm it ! ' ' Love cries, and rounde hys eyes 

A scarfe the maiden bindeth, 
And inne and oute and rounde aboute 

Ye willowe trees he windeth — 

Yette ne'er the maiden findeth. 

Stille inne and oute and rounde aboute. 

And stille no maiden meetinge ; 
Till, piqued, ye rogue unbinds hys eyes, 
And, perched upon a branch, espies 

Ye mayde retreatinge ; 
"Fie! Eie! '^ cries Love — ''you 're cheetinge ! '' 

"Now, you," quothe he, "must seeke for me V 

She binds her eyes, assentinge. 
And inne and oute and rounde aboute, 

Seeks she for Love relentinge — 

But Love, they say — alas, ye day ! 
Has spread his wings and flown away, 

And left ye mayde lamentinge. 

And left ye mayde repentinge. 

54 




IN THE CAFE. 



I p. M. 



He sits before me as I write, 

And talks of this and that, 
And all my thoughts are put to flight 

By his infernal chat. 
I came to write a tender rhyme 

To Phyllis or to Mabel, 
And chose in this retired cafe 

The most secluded table. 
He came before I 'd time to fly, 

And ere I could refuse, 
55 



Had filled the very chair that I 
Was keeping for the muse ! 

Then came the deluge — down it came 
In one unceasing pour — 

Of science, crops, photography, 
E-eligion, soups, and war. 

1.30 — Forsooth the flood of words that flows 

From this secluded table 
Will soon be great enough to swamp 

A dozen towers of Babel. 
2.30 — And still he stays, and still the flood 

Is rising as before ; 
3 — The world is now a sea of words 
3.30 — Without a sign of shore. 



Great Scott ! He 's going ! 

^ ' 'No, must you go ? 

DonH tear yourself away ! 
What have I written? Oh, some trash — 

A sort of Fairy-lay, 
Of how a dreadful ogre 

Caught a luckless youth one day, 
And drowned him in a flood of — well, 

If you must go — good day ! " 
56 



ENVOY. 



Phi/llis — or Mabel ! j^ray forgive - 

I had to pay Mtti out ; 
IHl write that tender rhyme to you 

Some other day, no doubt. 



57 




THE LEGEND OF THE LILY. 



Once a Tiger for a freak, 
Fell in love 

With a Lily, pure and meek 
And as timid, white, and weak 

As a dove. 
Yet withal a wee bit chilly, ^ 
Just enough the Tiger's silly 
Pride to pique. 
58 



By and by the Lily cold, 

Felt the charm ; 

Learned, tho' dreadful to behold. 
That the Tiger, fierce and bold. 

Meant no harm. 
And she smiled upon him shyly. 
Till at length the Tiger wily 

Was consoled. 

So in time the Beauty grew 

To adore 
The Royal Beast who came to woo. 
Loved him for his golden hue — 

For his roar ; 
All for him with blushes burning, 
To a Tiger-lily turning. 

Golden too. 

But alas, the luckless Lily 

Loved in vain ; 
For a painted daffodilly 
Came between them, and the Lily, 

Pale with pain. 
In a dark pool, drooped and pining. 
Drowned herself, and rose a shining 

Water-lily. 

59 




Of $ RAiPjriE ^ 




CHILD at school who fails to pass 
Examination in his class 
Of Natural History will be 
\ So shaky in Zoology. 
~\ \ That, should he ever chance to go 
' '''^/ To foreign parts, he scarce will know 
The common 3fus Ridiculus 
From Felis or Caniculus. 
And what of boys and girls is true 
Applies to other creatures, too, 
As you will cheerfully admit 
When once I 'ye illustrated it. 
60 




Once on a time a young Giraffe 

(Who when at school devoured the chaff, 

And trampled underneath his feet 

The golden grains of Learning's wheat) 

Upon his travels chanced to see 

A Python hanging from a tree, 

A thing he 'd never met before. 

All neck it seemed and nothing more ; 

And, stranger still, it was hestrown 

With pretty spots much like his own. 

W^ell, well ! I 've often heard," he said, 

'' Of foolish folk who lose their head; 

But really it 's a funnier joke 

To meet a head that 's lost its folk. 



" Dear me! Ha ! ha ! It makes me laugh. 
Where has he left his other half ? 
If he could find it he would be 
A really fine Giraffe, like me." 

61 




<^5% 



^^2b:^'> 



The Pythoiij waking witli a 

hiss, 
Exclaimed, ''What kind of 

snake is this ? 
^^^ Your spots are really 

very fine, 
Almost as good in fact as 

mine. 
But with those legs I fail to 

see 
How 3^ou can coil about a tree. 
Take away half, and you 

would make 
A very decent sort of snake — 
Almost as fine a snake as I; 
Indeed, it 's not too late to 
try.'' 



A something in the P3'thon's eye 
Told the Giraffe 't was best to fly, 
Omitting all formality. 
And afterward, when safe at home, 
He wrote a very learned tome. 
Called, ''What I Saw beyond the Eoam." 
Said he, "The strangest thing one sees 
Is a Giraffe who hangs from trees, 
62 



And has — (right here the author begs 
To state 2, fact) and has no legs!^^ 

The book made a tremendous hit. 
The public all devoured it, 
Save one, who, minding how he missed 
Devouring the author — hissed. 



63 









A DARK old Raven lived in a tree, 
With a little Tree-frog for company, 

In the midst of a forest so thick with trees 
Only thin people could walk with ease. 

Yet though the forest was dank and dark. 
The little Tree-frog was gay as a lark; 

He piped and trilled the livelong day. 
While the Raven was just the other way : 

He grumbled and croaked from morn till night, 
And nothing in all the world was right. 

64 



The moon was too pale, or the sun too bright ; 
The sky was too blue, or the snow too white ; 

The thrushes too gay, or the owls too glum ; 
And the squirrels — well, they were too squirrel- 
some. 

And as for the trees, ivhy did they grow 

In a wood, of all places ? — he 'd like to know. U-^''' 

A wood is so dark and unhealthy, too, 

For trees ; and besides, they obstruct the view 

And so it went on from morn till night : 
The Tree-frog piping with pure delight, 

And the Raven croaking with all his 

might 
That nothing in all the world was 

right. 



"Well, in this same wood, it chanced 

one day 
The enchanter IMerlin lost his way 

And stopping to rest 'neath the 

very tree 
Where the Raven and Tree-froq; 

were taking their tea, 
5 65 





He divined of a sudden, by magic lore, 
A thing I forgot to mention before : 

That the forest and all that therein did dwell 
Owed their present shape to an ancient spell. 

Now a spell, though a tiresome job to make, 
Is the easiest thing in the world to break, 

Wlien once you know how to perform the trick, 
As Merlin did. Waving his magic stick, 

66 



He cried, ^'Let this forest and everything in it 
Take its former shape ! " When lo ! in a minute, 

In place of the Kaven, a stern old sage 
All robed in black and all bent with agej 

And where the little Tree-frog had been 
Sat a goodly youth all dressed in green ; 

And around about was a flowery lawn 
Where the forest had been. Said the sage, with a 
yawn : 

** I must have been dozing — well, to resume — 
As I was saying, this world of gloom — '' 

^' Oh, bother the world of gloom — just hear 
That thrush!" cried the youth; "the first this 
year ! " 




67 





A BUKNY EOMANCE. 

HE Bunnies are a feeble folk 

Whose weakness is their strength. 
To shun a gun a Bun will run 
To almost any length. 

'Now once, when war alarms were rife 
In the ancestral wood 
Where the kingdom of the Bunnies 

For centuries had stood, 
The king, for fear long peace had made 

His subjects over-bold, 
To wake the glorious spirit 
Of timidity of old, 
68 



Announced one day he would bestow 

Princess Bunita's hand 
On the Bunny who should prove himself 

Most timid in the land. 

Next day a proclamation 

Was posted in the wood 
'' To the Flower of Timidity, 

The Pick of Bunnyhood: 
His Majesty the Bunny king, 

Commands you to appear 
At a tournament — at such a date 

In such and such a year — 
Where his Majesty will then bestow 

Princess Bunita's hand 
On the Bunny who will prove himself 

Most timid in the land." 

Then every timid Bunny's heart 
Swelled with exultant fright 

At the thought of doughty deeds of fear 
And prodigies of flight. 








For the motto of the Bunnies 

As perhaps you are aware, 
Is ^^ Only the faint-hearted 

Are deserving of the fair." 

They fell at once to practising, 

These Bunnies, one and all, 
Till some could almost die of fright 

To hear a petal fall. 
And one enterprising Bunny 

Got up a special class 
To teach the art of fainting 

At your shadow on the grass. 

At length — at length — at length 

The moment is at hand ! 
And tremhling all from head to foot 

A hundred Bunnies stand. 
And a hundred Bunny mothers 

With anxiety turn gray 
Lest their offspring dear should lose their fear 

And linger in the fray. 
70 



Never before in Bunny lore 

Was such a stirring sight 
As when the bugle sounded 

To begin the glorious flight ! 
A hundred Bunnies, like a flash, 

All disappeared from sight 
Like arrows from a hundred bows — 

None swerved to left or right. 
Some north, some south, some east, some west,- 

And none of them, 't is plain, 
Till he has gone around the earth 

Will e'er be seen again. 

It may be in a hundred weeks. 

Perchance a hundred years. 
Whenever it may be, 't is plain 

The one who first appears 
Is the one who ran the fastest ; 

He wins the Princess' hand, 
And gains the glorious title of 

'' Most Timid in the Land.'' 




71 




S^e^^ 



THE FLOWER CIRCUS. 



The flowers in the dell 
Once gave a circus show; 

And as I know them well, 
They asked if I would go 

As their especial guest. 

^' Quite charmed! '' said I, and so 

Put on my very best 

Frock-coat and shiny hat, 
72 



And my embroidered vest 

And wonderful cravat; 
In fact, no end of style, 

For it is, as 3-011 know, 
But once in a great while 

The flowers give a show. 

They gave me a front seat. 
The very nicest there — 

A bank of violets sweet 
And moss and maidenhair. 

^T was going to be a treat — 
I felt it in the air. 

As martial music crashed 
From a trained trumpet-vine, 

Into the ring there dashed 
A beauteous columbine ! 

With airy grace she strode 

Her wild horse-chestnut steed. 

I held my breath, she rode 

With such terrific speed. 
They brought a cobweb ring, 

And lightly she jumped through it. 
(A very dangerous thing ; 

How did she learn to do it ? ) 
73 



I cried, ''Brava! Encore!'' 

Until slie 'd jumped through nine, 

Each higher than before. 
(I tell you, it was fine ! ) 

Then Jack-in-pulpit — who 

From out his lofty place 
Announced what each would do — 

Cried, ^'Xext there comes a race.'' 




Two Scarlet Runners flew 
Three times the ring around. 

And with a crown of dew 

The winner's head was crowned. 



A booby race, for fun, 

Came next (the prize was cheaper) 
Trailing Arbutus won 

Over Virginia Creeper. 
74 






Then came the world-famed six, 
The Johnnj'^-jump-up Brothers, 

Who did amazing tricks, 

Each funnier than the others. 

A Spider, in mid-air 

(Engaged at great expense), 
On tight-thread gossamer 

Danced with a skill immense ! 

A dashing young Green Blade 
Who quickly followed suit. 

An exhibition made 

Of how young blades can shoot. 



i^ip^ 



•ta:^'' 




There were Harebell ringers, too, 

Who played delightful tunes. 
And trained Dog-violets, who 

Did antics, like buffoons. 
All these and more were there — 

Too many for narration ; 
But nothing could compare 

With the last ^' Great Sensation." 

I never shall forget, 

Though I should live an age, 
The sight of Mignonette 

Within the Lion's cage. 
Sweet smiling Mignonette ! 

Not one bit scared — for why on 
Earth should she fear her pet. 

Her dear, tame Dandelion ? 




THE FATUOUS FLOWER. 




NCE on a time a 
Bumblebee 
Addressed a Sun- 
flower. Said be: 
'' Dear Sunflower, 
tell me is it true 
Wbat everybody says of 

)U?'' 

Eeplied tlie Sunflower: ''Tell me, 
pray, 
How sbould I know wbat people say ? 
Wby sbould I even care ? No doubt 
'T is some ill-natured tale witbout 
A word of trutb ; but tell me, Bee, 
Wbat is it people say of me ? " 
*' Ob, no ! " tbe Bee made baste to add; 
'' 'T is really not so very bad. 
I got it from tbe Ant. Sbe said 
Sbe'd heard tbe Sun bad turned your bead, 
77 




And that whene'er he 

walks the skies 
You follow him with all 

your eyes 
From morn till eve — " 
^' Oh, what a shame ! " 
Exclaimed the Sun- 
flower, aflame, 
^' To say such things of me ! They know 
The very opposite is so. 



^^ They know full well that it is he — 
The Sun — who always follo\Ys me. 
/turn away my head until 
I fear my stalk will break ; and still 
He tags along from morn till night, 
Starting as soon as it is light, 
And never takes his eyes off me 
Until it is too dark to see ! 
They really ought to be ashamed. 
Soon they '11 be saying I was named 
For him, when well they know 't was he 
Who took the name of Sun from me." 
78 



The Sunflower paused, with anger dumb. 

The Bee said naught, but murmured, " H^m ! '' 

'T was very evident that he 

Was much impressed — this Bumblebee. 

He spread his wings at once and flew 

To tell some other bees he knew, 

Who, being also much impressed. 

Said, "■ H'm ! " and flew to tell the rest. 

And now if you should chance to see. 
In field or grove, a Bumblebee, 
And hear him murmur, ^^ IPtn! " then you 
Will know what he 's alluding to. 




79 




I 



LOVE STORY. 



He was a Wizard's son, 

She an Enchanter's daughter ; 

e dabbled in Spells for fun, 

Her father some magic had taught her. 

They loved — but alas ! to agree 

Their parents they could n't persuade. 
An Enchanter and Wizard, you see, 

Were natural rivals in trade — 
And the market for magic was poor — 

There was scarce enough business for two 
So what started rivalry pure 

Into hatred and jealousy grew. 

Now the lovers were dreadfully good ; 

But when there was really no hope, 
After waiting as long as they could, 

What else could they do but elope ? 
They eloped in a hired coupe ; 

And the youth, with what magic he knew 
Made it go fully five miles a day. 

(Such wonders can sorcery do !) 
80 





Then the maiden her witcheries plied, 

And enchanted the cabman so much, 
When they got to the end of their ride 

Not a cent of his fare would he touch ! 
Now they 're married and live to this day 

In a nice little tower, alone. 
For the building of which, by the way. 

Their parents provided the stone. 

Then the parents relented ? Oh, no ! 

They pursued with the fury of brutes, 
But arrived just too late for the show, 

Through a leak in their seven-league boots ; 
And finding their children were wed. 
Into such a wild rage they 
were thrown. 



They rushed on each other 
instead 
And each turned the 
other to stone. 

6 81 





Then the lovers, since lumber was high, 
And bricks were as then quite unknown, 

As soon as their tears were quite dry — 
They quarried their parents for stone. 

And now in a nice little tower, 

In Blissfulness tinged with Remorse, 

They live like as not to this hour — 
(Unless they have got a divorce) . 



^^y. 



r-^ 



MORAL. 

Crimej Wickedness, Villany, Vicef 
And Sin only misery h7nng ; 

If yon want to he Happy and Nice^ 
Be good and all that sort of thing. 



82 



YE KNYGHTE-MAEE. 

A POST-MORT-d' ARTHURIAN LEGEND. 

Ye log burns low, ye feaste is donne, 

Twelve knyghtes of ye Table Rounde 
Slyde down fromme ye benches, one by one, 

And snore upon ye ground. 

Ye log to a dimme blue flame has died, 

When ye doore of ye banquet halle 
Is opened wide, and in there glyde 

Twelve spectral Hagges ande Talle. 

Ye log burns dimme, and eke more dimme, 

Loud groans each knyghtlie gueste. 
As ye ghoste of his grandmother, gaunt and ^^ ♦• 
grim me, < , ;^. " 

Sitts on each knyghte tys cheste. '" 

Ye log in pieces twaine doth falle. 

Ye daye beginnes to breake. 
Twelve ghostlie grandmothers glyde from ye hall, 

And ye twelve goode knyghtes awake. 

Ande ever whenne Mynce Pye was placed 

On ye table frome thatte daye, 
Ye Twelve knj^ghtes crossed themselves in haste 

Ande looked ye other waye. 

83 



METAPHYSICS. 

Why and Wherefore set one day 

To hunt for a wild Negation. 
They agreed to meet at a cool retreat 

On the Point of Interrogation. 

But the night was dark and they missed their 
mark, 
And, driven well-nigh to distraction. 
They lost their ways in a murky maze 
Of utter abstruse abstraction. 

Then they took a boat and were soon afloat 

On a sea of Speculation, 
But the sea grew rough, and their boat, though 
tough, 

Was split into an Equation. 



84 



As tliey floundered about in the waves of doubt 

Kose a fearful Hypothesis, 
Who gibbered with glee as they sank in the sea, 

And the last they saw was this: 

On a rock-bound reef of Unbelief 

There sat the wild Negation ; 
Then they sank once more and were washed ashore 

At the Point of Interrogation. 



85 




/ ~1 









-^^ 



In a very lonely tower, 
So the legend goes to tell, 

Pines a Princess in the power 
Of a dreadful Dragon's spell. 

There she sits in silent state, 

Always watching — always dumb, 

While the Dragon at the gate 
Eats her suitors as they come — 



King and Prince of every nation 
Poet, Page, and Troubadour, 

Of whatever rank or station — 
Eats them up and waits for more. 
86 



Every Knight that hears the legend 
Thinks he'll see what he can do, 

Gives his sword a lovely edge, and — 
Like the rest is eaten too ! 

All of which is very pretty, 
And romantic, too, forsooth ; 

But, somehow, it seems a pity 

That they should n't know the truth. 

If they only knew that really 
There is no Princess to gain — 

That she 's an invention merely 
Of the crafty Dragon's brain. 

Once it chanced he 'd missed his dinner 

For perhaps a day or two ; 
Felt that he was getting thinner. 

Wondered what he 'd better do. 

Then it was that he bethought him 

How in this romantic age 
(Reading fairy tales had taught him) 

Rescuing ladies was the rage. 

So a lonely tower he rented. 
For a trifling sum per year, 

And this thrilling tale invented. 
Which was carried far and near; 

87 



Far and near throughout the nations, 
And tlie Dragon ever since, 

Has relied for daily rations, 

On some jolly Knight or Prince. 

And while his romantic fiction 
To a chivalrous age appeals, 

It 's a very safe prediction: 
He will never want for meals. 




88 








S7^ IS Majesty the King of Beasts, 
Tired of fuss and formal feasts, 
Once resolved that he would go 
On a tour incognito. 
But a suitable disguise 
Was not easy to devise; 
Kingl}' natures do not care 
Other people's things to wear. 

The very thought filled him with shame. 
^'No, I will simply change my name," 
Said he, '^and go just as I am. 
And call myself a Woolly Lamb.'' 

89 





And so he did, and as you '11 guess, 
He had a measure of success. 
Disguised in name alone, he yet 
Took in 'most every one he met. 

The first was Mister Wolf, who said, 

'' Your Majesty — " ^^ Off with his head ! " 

The angry monarch roared. *'I am, 

I 'd have you know, a Woolly Lamb." 



Then Mistress Lamb, who, being near. 
Had heard, addressed him : ^^ Brother dear — " 
^^Odds cats !" the lion roared. ^^My word ! 
Such insolence I never heard ! " 

90 



His rage was a terrific sight 

(It almost spoiled his appetite). 

And so it went, until one day 

He met Sir Fox, who stopped to say 

(Keeping just far enough away, 

Yet in a casual, off-hand way. 

As if he did nH care a fig), 

*^ Good- morning to you, Thingumjig." 

To-day we think it infra dig^ 

To use such words as Thing um jig; 

But what is now a vulgar word 

In those days never had been heard. 

Sir Fox himself invented it 

This great emergency to fit. 

The King of Beasts, quite unprepared 
For this reception, simply stared. 




Of course lie was not going to show 
There was a word he did not know. 
He bowed, and with his haughtiest air 
E-esumed his walk; but everywhere 
He went his subjects, small and big. 
Took up the cry of Thingumjig. 
It followed him where'er he went ; 
He did n't dare his rage to vent. 
Suppose it were a compliment ? 
His anger then would only show 
Here was a word he did not know ! 
The only course for him 't was clear, 
Was to pretend he did not hear.- 

And this he did until, at length, 
Long fasting so impaired his strength 

He gave his tour up in de- 
spair, 
Mid great rejoicing every- 
where. 






THE FUGITIVE THOUGHT. 



When scribbling late one night 
I happened to alight 

On the happiest thought I 'd thought 
For many a year. ^^-^ 

I hailed it with delight 
But ere I 'd time to write 
My pencil had contrived 
To disappear. 

Where could the thing have gone ? 
I searched and searched upon 

The table, and beneath it 
And behind it. 
I pushed my books about, 
Turned my pockets inside out, 

But the more I looked 

The more I couldn't find it! 
93 





Then I searched and searched again 
On the table, but in vain, 
And I fussed and fumed 

And felt about the floor. 
And I rose up in my wroth, 
And I shook the tablecloth, 
And turned my pockets 
Inside out once more ! 

<< This will not do,'' I said, 
** I must not lose my head ! " 
So I went and tore the cushions 
From my chair, 
Shook all my rugs and mats. 
And shoes and coats and hats, 
And crawled beneath the 
Sofa in despair ! 




A 




Then I said, ^^ I miist keep cool T' 
So I took my two-foot rule 
And I poked among the 
Ashes in the grate. 
And I paced my room in rage, 
Like a wild beast in a cage, 
In a furious, frightful, frantic, 
Frenzied state ! 

At last, upon my soul, 
I lost my self-control 

And indulged in language 
Quite unfit to her.r ; 
Till out of breath — I gasped 
And clutched my head — and grasped 
That pencil calmly resting on 
My ear ! 

95 



Yes, I found that pencil stub ! 
But my thought — Aye, there 's the rub ! 
In vain I try to call it 
Back again. 
It has fled beyond recall. 
And what is worst of all 
'T will turn up in some 
Other fellow's brain I 

So I denounce forthwith 
Any future Jones or Smith 
Who thinks m?/ tliought — a 
Plagiarist of the worst. 
I shall know my thought again 
When I hear it, and it 's plain 
It must be mine because 
/ thought it first ! 




.r^ 



'^ 



96 



fe B 111 




THE CUSSED DAMOZEL. 



A LOVER sate alone 

All by the Golden Gate, 

And made exceedynge moan 

Whiles he hys Love didde wait. 

To him One coming prayed 

Why he didde weepe. Said he, 
'^I weepe me for a maid 
Who Cometh notte to mee.'* 
7 97 




^^ Alas! I waite likewise 
My Love these many years ; 

Meseems 't would save our eyes 
If we should pool our tears." 

And so they weeped full sore 
A twelvemonth and a daye, 

Till they could weepe no more, 
For notte a tear hadde they. 

Whenas they came to see 
They could not weepe alway, 

Each of hys Faire Ladyee 
'Gan sing a rondelay. 

'^My Love hath golden hair,'' 
Sang one, " and like the wine 

The red lips of my Fair." 

The other sang, '' So^s mine." 

*^My Love is wondrous wise," 
Sang one, '^and wondrous fine 

And wondrous dark her eyes." 
The other sang, ^' So's mine." 
98 




'*My Love is wondrous proud, 
And her name is Geraldyne." 

**Thou liest! '^ shrieked aloud 
The other. ^^ She is mine ! " 

*^She plighted ere I died 

Eternal troth to me." 
*'Good lack," the other cried, 

** E'en so she plighted me ^ 

'^ Beside my bier she swore 
She would be true to me, 

For aye and evermore, 
Unto eternityee." 
99 



The twain didde then agree, 
In their most grievous plight, 

To fly to earth and see 

The which of them was right. 

Alack and well-a-daye ! 

A-well-a-daye alack ! 
Eft soons they flew away, 

Eft sooners flew they back. 

For when they had come there 
They were not fain to stay. 

To Geraldyne the Eaire 
Her silver weddyng daye. 




100 




A GAS-LOG EEVEEIE. 

As I sit, inanely staring 

In the Gas-log's lambent flame, 
Far away my fancy 's faring 

To a land without a name, — 
To the country of Invention, 

Where I roam in ecstasy. 
Where all things are mere pretension, 

Nothing what it seems to be. 



Folded in a calm serenic, 

On a jute-bank I recline, 
Where, mid moss of hue arsenic, 

Millinery flowers entwine. 
Cambric blooms — glass-dew beshowered. 

Gay with colors aniline, 
Ever eagerly devoured 

By the mild, condensed milch kine. 
101 



Now the scene idyllic changes 

From the meadows aniline, 
And my faltering fancy ranges 

Down a dismal, deep decline. 

Scene of some age past upheaval. 

Where no foot of man has fared, 
To a Gas-log grove primeval, 

Where I find me, mute, and scared 
Of — I know not — Goblins, Banshees, 

And the ancient Gas-trees toss 
Gnarled and flickering giant branches. 

Hoary with asbestos moss. 

"Now I come to where are waving 

Painted palms, precisely planned, 
Kearing trunks of cocoa shaving. 

By electric zephyrs fanned. 
Soothing me with sound seraphic 

Till I sink into a swoon. 
Dreaming cineomatographic 

Dreams beneath an arc-light moon. 




102 





Once Cupid, he 

Went on a spree 
And made a peck of trouble, 

'' Ah ha ! '' cried he, 

<^ Two hearts I see ! " 
Alack, the rogue saw double. 

There was but one ; 

What has he done ? 
How could he be so stupid ? 

Into one heart 

Two arrows dart — 
Cupid, Cupid, Cupid ! 

In truth 't is sweet 

When ^^two hearts beat 
As one '' — but what to do 

When in one heart 

Two arrows smart 
And one heart beats as two ? 
103 




ALL ABOAED! 

Scene : a railway station. 

UST two minutes more ! 

Tempus, stand still, 
Stand still, I implore, 
One moment, until 

1 have time to reflect 
On what I would say. 

Give me time to collect 

My senses, I pray. 

Until I have said 

What my courage was mounting 

To say, when instead 

I was stupidly counting 

The moments that fled ! 

Tempus ! you 're flying ! 
A plague on this parting, 
This sighing, goodbying, 
This smiling and smarting ; 
A plague too upon 
This — Heavens! it 's starting ! 
Good bye ! — 

There, she 's gone ! 
104 



KILLING TIME. 

The air was full of shouts and cries, 

Of shrill "Ha-ha's," and " Ho's," and "Hi's," 

And every kind of whistle. 
And the sky was dark with flying things — 
Golf-sticks, balls, engagement-rings, 
Novels, rackets, and billiard-cues, 
Cameras, fishing-rods, and shoes. 

And every sort of missile. 

The ground was black with a seething mass 
Of people of every kind and class — 

Matrons, men, and misses, 
Ladies and gentlemen, old and new. 
Lads and lasses, and children too, 
Elderly men with elderly wives — 
Hustling and bustling for their lives. 

'^I wonder what all this is ? '' 

Said I : ^^ I fear that it may be 
Another case for the S. P. C. 
105 



'T will bear investigation." 
I dropped my book and joined the race, 
And struggling into the foremost place, 
Behold, the object of the chase 
Was an aged man with wrinkled face ! 

I was filled with indignation. 

His frame was bent and his knees aknock, 
His head was bald but for one lock, 

And I cried with anger thrilling, 
''This thing must stop; 't is a disgrace 
An aged gentleman to chase/' 
Then everybody laughed in my face. 
"This," they cried, '' is a different case ; 

It's only ' Time ' we 're killing." 

Then it was I observed two things 

That grew from his shoulders — two big wings! 

And I joined in the people's laughter. 
Tho' killing is often out of place, 
A circumstance may alter a case. 
So I took my pad and pencil-case. 
And for want of a missile, in its place 

I tossed these verses after. 



106 



The Mermaid Culture Club request 
That you will kindly be 
On such and such a day their guest 
At something after three. 



I WROTE at once that ^^I should be 
Most charmed,'' and donn'd my best 
Dress diving-suit, — a joy to see, — 
And at their club-house 'neath the sea 
Arrived at •'' something after three '' 
Promptly (unpunctuality 

Is something I detest). 
I'he President, a mermaid fair, 
Sat by a coral table, 
And read an essay with an air 
Intelligent and able 
Upon — but you will never guess 
The subject — it was nothing less 
Than sunshades and umhrellas. 
I really did my very best 
To keep from laughing — as their guest. 
107 



±hat it was hard must be confessed 
When next the meeting was addressed 
On shoes, and which would wear the best — 

Tan slippers or prunellas. 
Then came (it did look like a joke) 
Essays on ho7inet, hat, and toque: 
Said I, '^They must be mocking." 
And when at length a mermaid rose, 
And read a thesis to expose 
The latest novelty in hose, 

I felt my reason rocking. 
But when at last the thing was o'er, 
And I was back again on shore, 

I fell to moralizing. 
And as remembrance came to me 
Of other clubs not in the sea. 
Of essays read by ladies fair 
Upon the " why " and " whence " and ^' where,'' 

Said I, ^'It's not surprising." 




108 



A SONG. 




^/ PON a time I had a Heart, 

And it was bright and gay; 
And I gave it to a Lady fair 
To have and keep alway. 

She soothed it and she smoothed it 
And she stabbed it till it bled; 
She brightened it and lightened it 
And she weighed it down with lead. 

She flattered it and battered it 
And she filled it full of gall ; 
Yet had I Twenty Hundred Hearts, 
Still should she have them all. 



109 




ANGEL'S TOYS. 

I 'vE often wondered — have n't you ? — 
What all the little angels do 
To while eternity away, 
When grown-up angels sing and play 
Upon their harps with golden strings, 
And lutes and violas and things. 
What do they do ? What do they play 
To while eternity away ? 
After much pondering profound, 
Perhaps an answer I have found — 
I give it you for what it 's worth. 
The people now upon this earth. 

Who neither quite deserve to go 

Above hereafter, nor below — 

The prig, the poser, and the crank ; 

The snob, who thinks of naught but rank ; 

The gossip and the fool — in short, 
110 



All nuisances of every sort — 
Will change into amusing toys 
For little angel girls and boys. 
The braggart will confer a boon 
By changing to a toy balloon : 
The snob tuft-hunter and the bore 
To shuttlecock and battledore 
Will turn ; the highfalutin wights 
The angel boys will fly as kites j 
The gossip then will cease his prattle, 
And be an angel baby's rattle ; 
The prig — but you have got me there 
Whether in heaven, or elsewhere, 
'T is quite impossible to see 
What kind of use the prig can be ; 
By what inscrutable design, 
Or by what accident divine, 
Or what impenetrable jest 
He was evolved, can ne'er be guessed. 




Ill 




THE REFORMED TIGRESS. 

A LADY on the lonely shore 

Of a dull watering place 
Once met a Tigress weeping sore, 

Tears streaming down her face. 



And knowing well that safety lay 

In not betraying fear, 
She asked in quite a friendly way, 

'^ What makes you weep, my dear ? " 
112 



The Tigress brushed a tear aside ; 

"I want a man! '^ she wailed. 
^* A man ! they 're scarce! '^ the lady cried; 

" 1 fear the crop has failed ! 

There is but one in miles, and oh, 

I fear that he is wed ! '' 
The Tigress smiled. ''I am, you know, 

A man eater," she said. 

**You eat them !" cried the maid, then ceased 

In horror and amaze, 
Then sat her down to show the beast 

The error of her ways. 

*^ Men are so scarce," she urged, ^'I fear 

There are n't enough to go 
Around — now is it right, my dear, 

That you should waste them so ? 

I weep to think of all the men 

You Ve spoiled ere now," said she. 

"And if you eat the rest, why, then 

What will be left for me ? '' 
8 113 



The hours flew by ; she took no rest 

Till twilight, when at last 
The contrite beast with sobs confessed 

Repentance for the past. 

" Go/' said the maid, " take my advice ; 

I know what 's best for you ; 
It 's cheap and filling at the price ; 

Go seek the oyster stew ! " 

The Tigress lies unto this day 

Upon an oyster bed. 
The Lady — so the gossips say — 

Is shortly to be wed. 




114 




TWO LADIES. 



TO C. D. G. AND A. B. W. 



Two ladies, not real ladies (no offence — 
I don't mean "not real ladies" in that sense), 
But pictured fancies tliey — who dwelt between 
The pages of a weekly magazine. 
Though often in the selfsame week they met. 
They were n't exactly in the selfsame set, 
And could not know each other. One, I think, 
Was done in wash ; the other, pen and ink. 
The wash lady (again there 's no offence — 
I use " wash " in its pure artistic sense) 
Was a brunette, vivacious, charming wholly ; 
Neither too slim, nor yet too rolly-poly. 

115 



A dazzling smile had this enchanting creature ; 

Indeed, her most predominating feature 

Was a continuous show of glittering pearl ; 

And on her forehead hung a little curl — 

A most distracting little curl ; and last, 

She had a very slight Hehraic cast. 

Gray eyes the other had, serene and clear ; 

A cold and distant manner ; yet I fear 

Her looks helied her, for she oft was seen 

Lounging about the beach, or 'mid the green, 

Of the conservatory's dim retreat, 

Always some chappie nestling at her feet. 

A first-rate fellow she, and looked her best 

When in a golf or walking costume dressed ; 

In short, the other's opposite in all. 

And fearfully and wonderfully tall. 

One day, by chance, each occupied a place 

On the same page, exactly face to face. 

In such a way 't was possible no more 

For either one the other to ignore. 

Then in an instant burst into a flame 

The fire that had been smouldering. 

' ' How came 
You here ? " they both exclaimed, as with one 

voice. 
(Here I use asterisks, though not from choice 

116 



But type has limits, and must play the dunce ; 
When two young ladies both converse at once.) 

n*#=5^**#*##M I J ^** 

*** !!!!! ! ! !! 

I left them to their scenes. 
Next day I found the page in smithereens, 
And I reflected, " It is very sad 
That two nice girls should get so awfully mad 
About a thing for which, had they but known, 
Two artists were responsible alone." 



118 




TO THE WOLF AT THE DOOR. 



O Wolf, I do not dread thee as of yore, 

Time was when I would tremble in my shoes 

At sight of thee — when lo ! my pity'ng Muse 

Brought me wherewith to drive thee from the door. 

And since at last, Wolf, my waning store 

Has lured thee back, she will not now refuse 

My invocation. So I cannot choose 

But cry, "Help ! Wolf ! '^ that she may come once 

more. 

Mine is a Muse that listens with disdain 

To any call save that of appetite ; 

And till thou camest all my prayers were vain, 

For while my purse was full, my brain was light. 

Therefore, Wolf, I welcome thee again 

To speed the Muse — that I may dine to-night. 

119 




120 



THE FALL OF J. W. BEANE. 

A GHOST STORY. 

In all the Eastern hemisphere 
You would n't find a knight, a peer, 
A viscount, earl or baronet, 
A marquis or a duke, nor yet 
A prince, or emperor, or king. 
Or sultan, czar, or anything 
That could in family pride surpass 
J. Wentworth Beane of Boston, Mass. 
His family tree could far outscale 
The bean-stalk in the fairy tale ; 
And Joseph's coat would pale before 
The blazon 'd coat-of-arms he bore, 
The arms of his old ancestor. 
One Godfrey Beane, ^^ who crossed, you know, 
About two hundred years ago." 
He had it stamped, engraved, embossed, 
Without the least regard to cost, 
Upon his house, upon his gate, 
Upon his table-cloth, his plate, 
121 



Upon his knocker, and his mat, 

Upon his watch, inside his hat; 

On scarf-pin, handkerchief, and screen, 

And cards ; in short, J. Wentworth Beane 

Contrived to have old Godfrey's crest 

On everything that he possessed. 

And lastly, when he died, his will 

Proved to contain a codicil 

Directing that a sum be spent 

To carve it on his monument. 

But if you think this ends the scene 
You little know J. Wentworth Beane. 
To judge him by the common host 
Is reckoning without his ghost. 
And it is something that befell 
His ghost I chiefly have to tell. 

At midnight of the very day 
They laid J. Wentworth Beane away, 
No sooner had the clock come round 
To 12 p. M. than from the ground 
Arose a spectre, lank and lean, 
With frigid air and haughty mien ; 
No other than J. Wentworth Beane, 
Unchanged in all, except his pride — 
If anything, intensified. 
122 



He looked about him with that air 
Of supercilious despair 
That very stuck-up people wear 
At some societ}'- affair 
When no one in their set is there. 
Then, after brushing from his sleeves 
Some bits of mould and clinging leaves, 
And lightly dusting off his shoe, 
The iron gate he floated through, 
Just looking back the clock to note, 
As one who fears to miss a boat. 
Ten minutes later found him on 
The ghost's Cunarder — ^^ Oregon; '' 
And ten days later by spook time 
He heard the hour of midnight chime 
From out the tower of Beanley Hall, 
And stood within the grave-yard wall 
Beside a stone, moss-grown and green. 
On which these simple words were seen : 

In Memory 
Sir Godfrey Beane. 

The while he gazed in thought serene 
A little ghost of humble mien. 
Unkempt and crooked, bent and spare. 
Accosted him with cringing air: 
123 




124 



*' Most noble sir, 't is plain to see 

You are not of the likes of me ; 

You are a spook of high degree.'^ 

''My good man/' cried J. Wentworth B., 

^* Leave me a little while, I pray, 

I 've travelled very far to-day, 

And I desire to be alone 

With him who sleeps beneath this stone. 

I cannot rest till I have seen 

My ancestor. Sir Godfrey Beane." 

*' Your ancestor ! How can that be ? " 
Exclaimed the little ghost, ^'when he, 
Last of his line, was drowned at sea 
Two hundred years ago; this stone 
Is to his memory alone. 
I, and I only, saw his end. 
As he, my master and my friend. 
Leaned o'er the vessel's side one night 
I pushed him —no, it was not right, 
I own that I was much to blame ; 
I donned his clothes, and took the name 
Of Beane — I also took his gold. 
About five thousand pounds all told ; 
And so to Boston, Mass., I came 
To found a family and name — 
125 



T, who in former times had been 
Sir Godfrey's— " 

" Wretch, what do you mean I 
Sir Godfrey's what?" gasped Wentworth Beane. 
<^Sir Godfrey's valet!" 

That same night, 
When the ghost steamer sailed, you might 
Among the passengers have seen 
A ghost of very abject mien, 
Faded and shrunk, forlorn and frayed, 

The shadow of his former shade. 
Who registered in steerage class, 
J. W. Beane of Boston, Mass. 

Now, gentle reader, do not try 

To guess the family which I 

Disguise as Beane — enough that they 

Exist on Beacon Hill to-day. 

In sweet enjoyment of their claims — 

It is not well to mention names. 



^46 r-m 126 



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